


In between the moments

by LordZukosWife



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordZukosWife/pseuds/LordZukosWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Lexa only have eyes for each other but their duties - and people - keep coming in between.</p>
<p>The two chapters are loosely connected to each other. The rating is M mostly to be on the safe side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a first time writer. This is just an idea that wouldn't leave me. I may or may not add a second chapter to this.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @lordzukoswife

Clarke races down to the dungeons. It has been two weeks since Clarke left Polis for Arkadia to settle some minor disputes in her capacity as Ambassador. It has been two weeks since she had a chance to kiss her lover on a fur coated bed, to caress her warm skin under the glow of a dozen candlelights, to be lost in the field of green of her soulmate's eyes. Clarke goes straight up to the throne room to meet her beloved but does not find her there. Instead, Titus informs her that Lexa has gone down to the floors underneath the tower with some Grounders to discuss whether the dungeons can be used as a temporary prison. Once Pike was overthrown, the Commander neither ordered for his death nor for his banishment but instead for his incarceration. Lexa sought an even older tradition than Jus Drein Jus Daun, one that preceded the nuclear apocalypse, and championed for a fair trial with due process.

As she rushes down Polis tower into the dungeons, the sharp taps from Clarke's boots begin to mingle with the echoes of a few other voices. Heart racing in sync with each step, Clarke rounds the corner and onto flat ground. She looks past the rat scurrying by her, the dimly lit torches in the cool, damp hallway, and the two burly Grounders decked in armor and numerous braids, and searches instead for her target. Like magnets coming together, blue eyes lock onto green ones and hold steady.

Having finally laid eyes on Lexa, Clarke relaxes and just takes her in. Lexa is wearing her trademark Heda outfit with her red sash falling gracefully behind her. Her hair is locked into the same regal braids as always and her forehead is decked with the sign of the Commander. To say she looks surprised is an understatement. Clarke bites back a smile as she realizes that she neglected to let Lexa know she would be coming home today. As soon as she had noticed Clarke, Lexa's head perked up, her rosy lips parted, and her long thin fingers unclasped from behind her. She watches amusedly as Lexa tries to school her features back into a more professional look - after all, their relationship is not yet public and they aren't alone presently. She gulps as Clarke smirks and both briefly glance at the Grounders who barely turn around to see that Clarke is there.

Lexa looks back at Clarke in what she probably thinks is a stoic look. "Ambassador," she greets her.

"Commander," Clarke nods.

"I take it that the dispute has been resolved?"

"It has, Heda."

"Good." Lexa turns to the Grounders once again and starts walking away from Clarke. The Grounders walk on either side of her as Clarke falls in step behind them.

"In other words," Lexa continues her previous conversation, "you are suggesting that we add no more than three cells here?"

"Sha, Heda," one Grounder replies. "The foundation of Polis tower is not stable enough for any more. Cutting through this bedrock could weaken the base farther and the tower could topple."

"We could potentially add more but it would be risky," the other adds.

"No need. This will suffice for now." Lexa stops walking. She turns around and accidentally bumps into Clarke. The two are standing so much closer than before now – just within reach – and Lexa cannot help but want to count every tiny freckle on Clarke’s skin. Clearing her throat and glancing away quickly while Clarke struggles to control a chuckle from escaping, Lexa turns again to the two Grounders. "If there is nothing else to be done here, you are both dismissed."

"Well, we need to check the walls, Heda. We need to see where we can build the new cells."

Lexa sighs softly at that. "Very well. You may proceed."

The two Grounders walk over to the walls and begin tapping them, likely mapping which parts are hollow and thus worthy of being shaped into a prison cell.

Lexa steps a few feet away from Clarke and peeks back at her again. "So what exactly was the Skaikru disputing?"

"It wasn't a dispute as much as a misunderstanding," Clarke responds. "Arkadia's population is growing and they’re worried that they won't be able to grow food fast enough. They've been looking for new crops to grow and found some plants by the riverside. They took a couple of them back to Arkadia to study, but they didn’t realize those were crops planted by Trikru. So, the dispute."

Lexa furrows her brow in annoyance. "Tell me, Clarke, did the concept of private property not exist on the Ark? I am legitimately curious."

Clarke ignores Lexa's snark and answers, albeit a bit formally, "We're new to this world, Heda. We've only just begun learning about it. Please forgive us."

Lexa continues to glare at Clarke.

"They need food, Lexa," Clarke whispers softly. "They're just hungry."

"Aren't we all?" Lexa murmurs.

There is a tense pause. Their gazes seal onto one another for the umpteenth time. Slowly, Lexa's eyes travel down Clarke's face, down her exposed throat, pauses at her chest, and then farther down as Clarke feel her skin burn brighter than the torches. She squeezes her legs together and tries to calm her breathing. Lexa continues staring at her heatedly, disrobing her with just her eyes.

_Not now, Clarke. Not now_ , Clarke counsels herself, glancing quickly at the Grounders several feet away.

Clarke holds her breath in a lame attempt to salvage some control from her body. Only the slight tapping down the hall and a few quiet murmurs fill the passage with sound. She feels a jolt go through her body every time the tapping coincides with the hammering of her heart. She needs to do something. _Anything_.

_Not now. Later._

"We reached a resolution this morning," Clarke continues, trying to keep the husk out of her voice.

"And?" Lexa commands.

"Arkadia and a Trikru village have agreed to an exchange program. Three Grounders will stay at Arkadia and teach my people how to farm new crops, while Jackson and a couple of other doctors have gone to the Grounder village to teach them about our medicines. Kane has ensured the safety of these Grounders."

"Hmm," Lexa finally looks away and mumbles to Clarke, "Well, let's just hope Kane doesn't get any new bright ideas like holding another election. We wouldn't want Trikru getting imprisoned needlessly again."

Clarke frowns. Where is this animosity coming from, and that too for Kane?

Lexa heaves a frustrated sigh and squints at the Grounders still tapping away. "Are you almost done yet?" she calls out impatiently.

"Almost, Heda! Just a few more minutes."

Lexa sighs deeply again and starts pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing at Clarke longingly. Two weeks may not seem like much for a normal person, but these two – who do not like staying apart for even one minute – two weeks seems like a century. Clarke tries to contain her smile, finally understanding where Lexa's frustration is actually coming from. How Lexa manages to make her bite back a laugh, then contain a moan, and then hide her smile within seconds of each other, she will never understand.

Eventually, the Grounder architects finish their incessant tapping and bow out. Lexa finally stops pacing and stares at Clarke, desire dilating and darkening her green eyes. Clarke knows she is weak to that gaze, so she stares stubbornly instead at the torch behind Lexa's head. They continue to stand where they are, not moving a muscle, waiting for the sounds of the Grounders' footsteps to seize. An insurmountable amount of time later, the footsteps finally fade away.

Clarke reaches out and desperately grabs at Lexa's collar and pulls her closer. Lexa walks her back until Clarke is trapped between the dungeon wall and her lover. Lexa's lips clamp onto Clarke's and both sigh with satisfaction. Clarke opens her mouth and licks Lexa's lips apart, their tongues entangling an instant later. Lexa reaches inside Clarke's jacket and fondles her soft chest with both hands. Clarke moans into her mouth. Reaching up, she tugs at Lexa's hair and scratches her nails against her scalp frantically. Lexa pushes her farther into the wall, wraps one of Clarke's legs around her, and grinds her pelvis against Clarke's. Clarke clutches Lexa tightly, no longer able to balance herself on just one foot. Her breathing rate skyrockets, her heart wants to escape out of her chest, her core below fires up with Lexa's undulating motion. They would continue to kiss each other passionately, lovingly, urgently had they not been interrupted.

A door clangs open from the other side of the passageway. The jarring noise pushes the two girls apart as though electrocuted. They search for the source of the interruption perplexedly.

"Well, Titus said Lexa would be down here. I didn't realize this place was so big."

Clarke's eyes widen comically hearing Octavia's voice. She glances at Lexa's tousled hair and swollen lips, her own open jacket and flushed skin, and mentally slaps herself. Of all the Grounders in the world, it _has_ to be Octavia. She prays Octavia will not notice their disheveled states.

"This is the capital. Of course it is big," Indra's biting voice echoes throughout the dungeon hallway. Finally, they come into view. "Ah, Heda!" She bows respectfully. Octavia halts, glancing between the two leaders suspiciously before remembering to bow as well. Clarke cringes. Octavia always has a knack of knowing when Clarke is hiding something.

"Indra, what is it?" Lexa asks, straightening her hair subtly while Clarke zips up her jacket.

"There has been a sighting of Ontari in the northwest. You are needed in the throne room to plan the next course of action."

Lexa nods sagely. She turns to Clarke and states somewhat guiltily, "I'm sorry, Clarke, but it seems our... conversation has been cut short. Perhaps we can continue this talk later today?"

Clarke smiles reassuringly. "I'll drop by tonight."

With a swish of her cloak, Lexa turns and walks back up the dungeon steps, Indra in tow. Clarke makes to follow, but Octavia stops her.

"I don't think they need Wanheda or the Skaikru ambassador to plan how to capture Ontari." She grins, "Found yourself a princess, Princess?"

Clarke blushes and massages the bridge of her nose. She has a lot of explaining to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a second part :`)
> 
> Fair warning, this gets a little angsty. Wasn't my intention but sometimes the story just writes itself.

_Clash!_

A grunt. Heavy breathing. A short, strangled cry. The screeching of metal against metal signals to those hiding within trees that there is still no clear winner. The heat of the noon-sun burns down onto Lexa’s braided hair, making them stick to the back of her warm, sweaty neck. She can feel her left temple throbbing from the blow she had received earlier, but she continues to push against her opponent. She is panting and dehydrated, but none of this is of significance to her. Mere inches from her face, a set of black eyes, blacker than the kohl wrapped around Lexa’s eyes like a second skin, glares back at her menacingly. Dried black blood, identical to her own, stains the corner of her enemy’s mouth. Baring her teeth and digging her heels into the dried tan grass, Lexa pushes her arms forward, inching her weapon closer and closer to Ontari’s neck.

The menace in Ontari’s eyes diminishes briefly as she realizes her luck is coming to an end. Quick as a fox, she twists her back foot marginally and brings up her right elbow an infinitesimal amount, providing her with just the right angle to slide her sword on top of Lexa’s and push down. But Lexa anticipated as much from the Ice Nation warrior. With the predictability of a lightning strike, she drops to one knee and twists her wrists in an arc, capturing Ontari’s sword with her own. The blade falls out of Ontari’s grasp, and she is left momentarily blinded by the quick turn of events. Lexa is up in a flash and grabs Ontari’s wrist with her left hand. She thrusts the Nightblood around 180 degrees and lands a kick in between her shoulder blades. Ontari’s knees hit the ground. Hard. With the same hand, Lexa grabs the other wrist and holds them both tight as manacles behind Ontari’s back. She slams down with her knee again, caging Ontari’s calves to the ground with her own. With her right arm, Lexa sweeps her sword across to Ontari’s front, the tip digging just superficial to the younger warrior’s carotid.

“Yu gonplei ste udon, Ontari kom Azgeda,” Lexa declares into Ontari’s ear as the fallen Grounder struggles against her captive.

The thunderous sound of a bullet leaving a gun reaches Lexa’s ears; in the next split-second a speeding arrow whizzes by her head and grazes her left ear. One breath later, a large body slowly plummets to the ground from an oak tree located just ahead of her. Shocked to immobilization – a good thing too, since her hold on Ontari has not slackened – Lexa watches the Ice Nation warrior writhe in pain, red blood oozing out of his forearm, some forty feet away.

Lexa does not turn around but relaxes unperceivably as she hears the sound of familiar footsteps slowly approaching her.

“Wanheda,” Lexa begins exasperatedly, “ _What_ are you doing here?”

“Saving your life, Heda,” is the curt response.

Finally, the Commander of Death saunters around the Victor and the Defeated, who despite it all still struggles fruitlessly, and stares down defiantly into the eyes of Heda. She blows away the smoke rising from her still handy gun and carefully tucks it into the waistband of her jeans.

Lexa takes a deep calming breath as she glares back up at her most problematic ambassador. “We discussed this. The plan was for you to remain in Polis until Ontari was captured.”

“Plans don’t last very long in battle.” Another monotonous retort.

Lexa blinks. She did not just– _Did she just–?_

Trying to ignore the growing warmth in her chest that Clarke still remembers such an old teaching of hers, Lexa closes her eyes briefly and takes another calming breath before speaking again. “Of course, plans do not last very long if you intend to not follow them in the first place.”

Clarke glances back at the moaning Azgeda warrior behind her. “There was a hole in your plan. I came to fill it.”

“You mustn’t make unilateral decisions, Ambassador.”

“And you shouldn’t go ahead with plans that’ll end your life, Commander.”

“ _Clarke!_ ”

“ _Lexa._ ”

Lexa is rendered speechless for a second time. She opens and closes her mouth, more times than she is willing to admit (and secretly glad that Ontari cannot see her gaping like a fish out of water). With Clarke towering above her, quiet determination molding her face, her powerful gun slung casually but visibly at her waist, Lexa does not feel quite as victorious as she had expected. Grinding her teeth together in frustration, she narrows her eyes at Clarke. _Don’t play power games with me, Clarke_ , she wills her love to understand, _this is not our bedroom!_ She pointedly glances at Ontari in front of her. The last thing they need is for a powerful Ice Nation foe to think there is discord between the Commander and her ambassadors. Or worse, that there is more than just a professional relationship between the two leaders. It was, after all, the Ice Nation that had killed Costia in cold blood. And despite her efforts, Lexa has not yet fully let go of _Love is Weakness_.

After a tense pause, Clarke finally averts her eyes in surrender. Lexa can almost hear Clarke whining in her head. And is her bottom lip more jut out than usual? Is she actually… pouting? Lexa squints. She’s actually pouting! In front of the Ice Nation! _Clarke, stop being childish, for once just listen–!_

“Do you need help with that?” Clarke gestures at Ontari, who by now had become limper.

Definitely whining. “I could use some assistance,” Lexa nods with a sigh of relief.

Retrieving some thick vines from a nearby tree, Clarke squats behind Ontari right next to Lexa. Though she has acquiesced in front of their enemy, the fire in her eyes is yet to taper. This conversation is clearly not over. _Oh, sweet Becca, give me strength._

With the utmost patience remarkable even for the Commander of the Thirteen Clans, Lexa manages not to roll her eyes. It is not as though she isn’t grateful that Clarke stepped in. She is not blind to the fact that had Clarke not fired such a timely bullet with impeccable aim, the Commander’s spirit may have already ascended out of her body by now. But she also cannot ignore that Clarke willingly put herself in danger just to ensure Lexa’s safety. And as endearing as she may find that – oh, who knows, years? – later, right now she is more concerned with how the outcome would have been drastically different had the archer found Clarke before she had found him.

Together, they bind Ontari up. Lexa holds Ontari’s wrists in place, while Clarke winds the rope around them tightly. Knowing that Ontari will not dare to look behind her with the sword so close to her lifeline, Lexa softly bumps Clarke’s shoulder with her own. Clarke glances up. Though she refuses to stop pouting, her gaze is softer, the fiery blue dimmed to a cool moonlight. Lexa’s smile is small but her eyes are warm, as warm as her bed furs during a wintery snowstorm, as she tries to wordlessly convey her gratitude. She is indebted once again to her Skai girl and she wonders for the millionth time what Clarke even sees in her.

~.*.~

“Delegates of the Thirteen Clans!” Lexa’s commanding voice resonates throughout the vast courtyard in front of Polis tower. “People of Trikru! Kneeling before you, I present, Ontari kom Azgeda, the last of our foes!” A resounding cheer erupts from the packed audience, particularly from the Trikru subjects as they quickly celebrate another fallen enemy. Ontari hisses at this group, clearly unwilling to accept defeat even now.

“We have accomplished much in the past few years,” Lexa continues in a quieter voice once the chatter simmers down. “We have survived the creation of an alliance of 12 clans, defeated the Mountain Men once and for all, brought back to life our brethren – the Reapers – and even allowed Skaikru to assimilate into our proud culture. But most importantly, we have brought justice to the violent acts committed by a delusional criminal hell-bent on sparking a war against our people – and we defeated him without spilling his blood or taking his life.

“Jus nou drein, jus daun. For too long, our people have abided by the opposite – that blood must have blood, that the only answer to violence is more violence. But for the first time, we found another way to cast punishment on the wicked, to bring peace to a war-torn land. For once, we have found a more sustainable way of living that breeds forgiveness but not without consequence.

“The man who slaughtered 300 of our brave, strong, loyal warriors in their sleep will now rot away for the rest of his life in the dungeons below the earth. Death by even 300 cuts would not be enough. Though torturous, his punishment would still have ended. But now he will live for decades, his years wasted, as he contemplates his actions.

“The same punishment we will now inflict upon Ontari kom Azgeda, for massacring the Nightbloods-in-training–” Lexa’s voice wavers here. She pauses and glances briefly at Clarke. With the barest of nods and the faintest of smiles, Clarke encourages the Commander to continue, “–as they slept… Such cowardly acts cannot go unpunished. We bring the Nightbloods justice by imprisoning Ontari kom Azgeda for the remainder of her lifetime!”

The crowd roars with the verdict. Drums beat in synchrony and trumpets blare in triumph, as Ontari is taken away to her final destination. The crowd disperses and the clans intermingle as celebration takes way. All eyes no longer set on her, Lexa sneaks out of the courtyard and back towards Polis tower. Her footsteps fall heavy despite the glorious day.

Just as she makes it inside the tower, a pair of running feet comes to a halt behind her. The main door slams shut behind the two women, shrouding them in silent darkness. Soft fingers slowly grab onto Lexa’s hand. Lexa could recognize the gentle stroke of that thumb against her callused fingers any day. As the body behind inches closer, her sweet scent of grass and trees and something uniquely _hers_ wafts into Lexa’s nose, bringing with it comfort and a sense of home she so desperately craves at this moment. A second hand caresses her long tresses before moving up and resting on her shoulder. For a long moment, they stand there together, unable to communicate in any spoken language.

“Lexa…” Clarke finally whispers.

At this point, Lexa no longer has any tears left to shed for her beloved Nightbloods – her protégés, her brothers and sisters, her children, her family. They were killed in the most brutal of ways and merely to send a message: You’re next, Heda. And with the Nightbloods gone and once Heda was removed, there would be nowhere else for the Spirit to travel but directly into Ontari. Or at least that is what the Ice Nation’s plan had been. Ironically, Lexa survived even if her heart had been shattered. Had Clarke not been there to meticulously reassemble the fragments, Lexa would surely have become a breathing corpse, possibly even given up on one day living rather than just surviving.

Slowly, delicately, Clarke turns Lexa around. In the dim light, Clarke can only imagine the pain reflecting in Lexa’s downward-peering eyes, the deaths of all of her loved ones that she is feeling in her trembling body. Walking on eggshells, Clarke steps closer to the young girl and places a tender, lingering kiss just above the Commander’s insignia. A deep, shuddering breath later, Lexa finally looks up at Clarke. The misery Clarke anticipated to see in Lexa’s eyes is underlined by an unexpected look of defiance.

“You weren’t supposed to follow me, Clarke,” Lexa begins in a shaky but determined voice.

Clarke sucks in air, preparing herself. “Lexa–”

“No! Clarke, you were supposed to stay here in the tower. There was a _reason_ behind the plan. If you felt my plan was flawed, you should have talked to me.”

“I _did_ come talk to you, Lexa! But you were hell-bent on going after Ontari alone–”

“Because I didn’t want to alert her!”

“But this way you were leaving yourself exposed. And like hell I’m letting you die on my watch.”

“Well, then, you should have sent a warrior after me instead of coming yourself, Clarke! Like Ryder or Indra or Octavia. Or Titus even!”

“I don’t trust anyone else to want you alive as desperately as I do.”

Lexa lets out an infuriated yell. “Argh! Do you not understand me, Clarke? Of all the people in the world, I expected that at least _you_ would understand!”

Clarke bites back her retort. No, this was not the time for her to get all in Lexa’s face. It is a rare occurrence when Lexa loses her level-headedness, succumbs to all of the emotions weighing her down inside. She never yells, never screams, never even raises her voice against Clarke. But the pain of loss, and so much at such a young age, can be incredibly damaging if left locked up inside. And so Clarke is there, will always be there, when Lexa needs to just let go, to finally acknowledge that she is in fact human.

“ _What would happen to me if you died, Clarke?_ ” Lexa screams in a strangled whisper. Perhaps not for what she has already lost but for what she had almost lost, tears spill out now, tracing the path of her blood-colored war paint. “Costia, Anya, Gustus, A-Aden… they all left me. And apparently _you_ have no problems leaving me behind either, do you?”

Lexa is sobbing, averting her eyes to the dusty floor again, and Clarke is swallowing back her own tears. The armor donning Lexa’s shoulder seems too heavy now for the young woman. Her maroon, tattered sash wilts behind her. The braids seem too tight, her clothes seem too constricting, even the Commander’s insignia seems ready to fall off of her forehead.

When it seems that Lexa has said all that she had wanted to say, Clarke gently cups Lexa’s face with her hands.

“Look at me, Lexa,” Clarke commands soothingly. After some coaxing, Lexa obliges. “I will _never_ leave you. Not today, not tomorrow, not even on my dying day. I will _always_ be with you. I will always love you. And even when you have abandoned all faith, have forgotten me, or are lost, I will always find you.”

“Clarke…”

“I fell from space and found you on a giant planet. The Earth brought us together, Lexa. The same Earth that taught us to survive first and abandon living, to kill or be killed, to put our people above all else. That same Earth brought us a way to heal, to hope, to forge a new path… in the form of each other. I refuse to believe this planet brought us together just to tear us apart.”

Softly, Clarke places a kiss on Lexa’s trembling lips.

“People say love is blinding, but you’ve only ever opened my eyes to new possibilities, Lexa. People would label us as hopelessly in love, but I’ve only grown more hopeful for the future with you. People describe love as falling, but I feel like I’m soaring everyday… I’ve never been one to enjoy literature, Lexa, but you’re sure to make a poet out of me one day.”

Clarke places a hand lightly on Lexa’s left temple, where it had been throbbing only hours before. She tilts Lexa’s head slightly and places a comforting kiss there. With a mirthless chuckle, she whispers, “Hell, people even said that love is weakness, but I know it is the ultimate strength.”

Unconvinced, Lexa looks away at that, having yet to see an example of when love is strength.

“I know you don’t believe me. But it is because of our love today that we are both alive, Lexa. If I didn’t need you, want you, _love_ you as much as I do, I would never have followed you. I would have never scouted your surroundings and looked for foul play on Ontari’s end. I wouldn’t have seen that archer and I wouldn’t have shot him.” Clarke pauses here, shifting her fingers to Lexa’s ear, lightly grazing the now-healing cut. “It is because of our love that he missed. And it is our love that will save us again and again, I know it.”

So convincing is Clarke’s argument that Lexa feels anchored within her steely gaze. In the low lighting, Clarke’s normally day blue eyes are darker now yet reassuring, her irises the shade of the sky just past sunset but prior to nightfall. The unshed tears in her eyes glisten like stars beginning to twinkle in twilight. Clarke’s eyes pulls Lexa into her gravity, giving her the illusion of falling, but Lexa feels herself only become more grounded in the moment.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa eventually murmurs. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. That was entirely unforgiveable of–”

“Hey…” Clarke shushes Lexa and pulls her in for a long hug. “Wars can be won or lost in minutes, seconds. But healing? It takes time. It’ll take as long as it takes.”

Still shuddering, still shaking, Lexa smiles against Clarke’s smooth cheeks. “You seem to remember a lot of what I taught you when we fought against the Mountain. What else do you remember?” she mumbles into her hair.

Clarke chuckles. “Oh, something about mockery and multiplication.”

Lexa scrunches up her brows together, confused. “You mean, ‘mockery isn’t the product of a strong mind’?”

“Yeah, yeah, something like that. Not exactly the most important thing out there.”

Lexa smiles solemnly and pulls away from Clarke. “Thank you, Clarke.”

Clarke does not bother correcting her of the fact that she did not do anything worth being thanked for. Lexa tends to become more formal and deferential the more vulnerable she feels. It is a quality quite unique to her, one of many that Clarke finds lovable.

Not letting Lexa get too far from her, Clarke wraps an arm around her waist. Biting her bottom lip and bumping her forehead against Lexa’s, she asks, “What do you say we go ahead and enjoy the feast?”

Lexa gives her signature toothless smile and peeks at Clarke shyly through wet lashes, “I would like that. But I just need to readjust my war paint.” She twirls around, intending to search for a mirror when–

“Oh my God, Lexa, you look beautiful, and I still look like I haven’t showered, so please let’s just go,” Clarke declares grouchily and pulls Lexa by the hand out into the evening sun, where all of Polis is celebrating out in the streets, lighting fireworks into the orange sky, chugging drinks of all kinds, grilling myriads of meats in the open barbecues, dancing and singing and laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people may have found Lexa a little out of character in this part. I feel that Clexa is an evolving ship and at this point in their relationship, I think Lexa will have broken down her walls enough to get very emotional in front of Clarke. Lexa's reaction in the latter half of the chapter is inspired by her reaction in canon when Titus brought up Costia.
> 
> Anyways, constructive criticism always welcome =]

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment below. I would really appreciate feedback on what you liked and didn't like so that I can improve my writing. Thanks!


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